


A Fairy-Tale

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Bittersweet, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Male Slash, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, pre-Season One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 08:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: Pre-Season One. The Duke corners Thomas during the London Season.





	A Fairy-Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raelee514](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raelee514/gifts).



> I would like to gift this work to Raelee514 as they wrote their own fic about Thomas and the Duke during the London Season and it inspired me to finally finish this.
> 
> Here is the link to their work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109771?view_adult=true  
> Definitely give this a read. Raelee514 is a lovely writer.
> 
> I had started this a little while ago but I never got round to finishing it.
> 
> I'll admit that I've been in a bit of a slump over my fanfictions. This is a hobby for me, a slice of escapism as well as a creative outlet. I'm not a particularly talented writer and I accept this - I do!  
> It's just that recently, I keep scrapping everything I write because it's not good enough. I start again and I feel like I get somewhere, but it happens all over again and the work gets discarded.  
> A part of me wants to fight to write a better story, to perfect it but I don't have the time or the energy - frankly, I don't have the talent either.
> 
> This was supposed to be a fun stress reliever...but it's only causing me more stress!
> 
> *Insert me stamping my feet and flailing my limbs about like a child*
> 
> Never mind, let's focus on the positives.  
> I hope that this can be enjoyed by someone. I'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. Fingers crossed this isn't too boring! Thomas is slightly OOC, sorry, but bear with me. It is fanfiction after all.

It was harder to escape the other servants in Grantham House. The beautiful London terrace was smaller than Downton, louder somehow and after his long day of never ending fetching and carrying, Thomas wanted some peace. He had mastered the art of procrastination and job dodging years ago, so under the guise of ‘checking the dining room’, Thomas slipped into the deserted room and paced around the large wooden table. Nothing was out of place, therefore there was nothing to do and boredom was not something Thomas handled well, but it was better than being surrounded by the rest of the staff in the small servant’s quarters. Normally he would smoke in the garden with O’Brien, Lady Grantham’s maid, but she had claimed she was too tired and promptly took herself to bed. O’Brien was a formidable woman, cold and catty, but for some reason, despite her disinterest in the other servants, the maid seemed to be drawn to Thomas. They had formed a strange allegiance after Christmas when she caught Thomas mumbling bitterly under his breath about how beastly Carson could be. They weren’t exactly friends and neither fully trusted one another, but there was something of an understanding between them. O’Brien had dedicated her time to advancing Thomas, encouraging him to aim for the position of first footman or valet. It was nice to have someone else on his side and he normally enjoyed her company. He wished she hadn’t gone to bed so early, he could have complained about his aching feet and sore wrists to her if in the garden. He had considered going outside himself, but he didn’t want to. It wasn’t a fact he liked to admit but the small walled garden unnerved Thomas. When coated with shadows, it was quite spooky and the constant noises that came from over the walls put Thomas on edge, so he avoided going out alone in the dark alone. He was used to the tranquillity of the countryside where only insect chirps and the howling of the wind could bother him at night.

Lost within his daydream, Thomas didn’t hear the door open.

“I thought I saw you creep in here,” came a voice from behind.

Thomas jumped in fright and whipped around, staring wide-eyed at the door. Instead of finding Carson or the first footman, Johnathan, he was surprised to find the Duke of Crowborough in the doorframe. A strange smile played upon the corner of his lip and he looked very pleased with himself. As Thomas drew his shoulders back and corrected his stance, the Duke carefully closed the door behind him. Once the door shut, he folded his hands behind his back turned his attention back to Thomas. It was rude to gape at a guest, Thomas knew this, but he was transfixed. The aristocrat’s handsome face was illuminated in the soft candlelight, the dim amber glow complimenting his fine features and dark, sparkling eyes. For the past few nights, Thomas had noticed that the Duke seemed to hold a fascination for him and whilst the attention was very flattering, he was all too aware of the risks involved when servants tangled themselves in affairs with the upper classes. If Carson or another servant were to barge into the room, serious questions may be asked. The Crawley’s and their guests were meant to have retired for the evening well over an hour ago.

“Your Grace! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there. I thought everyone had gone to bed, I was just -” Thomas babbled before he was interrupted.

“No need to apologise, I snuck in without knocking,” the Duke assured him. His tone was gentle and his expression was mild, but there was an unmissable glint of mischief twinkling in his eyes that was both unsettling and exciting.

“Can I offer you my assistance, your Grace?” Thomas asked politely, squaring his shoulders a little more. “Is there anything you need?”

“Perhaps,” the Duke said mysteriously, plucking an invisible spec from his robe. It was risky for the man to wander about the house in only his nightwear but he didn’t appear concerned. The innuendo hidden within his remark was also very clear, but Thomas decided to play coy.

“How may I be of help, your Grace?” he asked innocently, tilting his head slightly for effect.

The duke smiled, all too aware that he was being toyed with and drawled, “I suppose I’m rather bored. One thing I find particularly tedious is constantly being referred to as ‘your Grace’. Call me Philip when we are alone, please. I believe your name is Thomas, am I correct?”

“Yes, you are correct,” Thomas said smoothly, “but I’d hate to be accused of impertinence, your Grace. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to refer to you by your Christian name.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to care about appropriateness,” The Duke snorted, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the door. “I for one, know I don’t care for _appropriateness_. Who decided what is appropriate and what is not? We are all the children of God, are we not? Privately, I find I don’t much care for societies constraints and our manmade divides.”

Ignoring the controversial remarks, Thomas continued, “That’s very honourable of you, your Grace. If you are bored, perhaps I could show you the library? Or I could bring you some tea or warm milk?”

The Duke chortled and shook his head. His laugh was warm and thick; its rich tones conjuring images of smooth, velvety chocolate in Thomas’s mind. He imagined that should he kiss the Duke, he would taste like caramel.

“I’m not a child, I don’t require any milk,” the Duke chided him. “I would like to know why you aren’t in bed yet, young man. You servants need to up at the crack of dawn, don’t you? You will be tired come morning.”

Thomas found that his interest in the handsome Duke immediately wavered. He didn’t care to be patronised and referred to as a ‘young man’ by someone who could only be a year or two older than him. He gave a shrug and responded with a careless wave of his hand, “I’ll be fine, your Grace. You needn’t concern yourself with me.”

The Duke seemed to sense that he had irked Thomas and pushed his body away from the door. He slowly began to prowl around the table, never taking his eyes off the weary footman.

“Now, now,” he said quietly, his voice so low it almost sounded dangerous, “I will choose who I will concern myself with, and who I will not. I’ve decided to concern myself with you, Thomas, because I think you’ve been teasing me. I’m right, aren’t I?”

The Duke was still walking towards Thomas and the footman was tempted to meet him half way, but he chose to stay put. He was sick of chasing after the elite, fetching this and that, no m’Lady, yes m’Lord. For once a man of high social class could come to him.

 “Oh?” he marvelled, faking innocence. He may have conveniently dropped a button here and there, or crouched a little too close to the Duke when he had served him at meals.

“Don’t play games,” the Duke warned, however he was completely unserious. His grin was playful and his eyes were glistening with excitement. “I almost spilled wine over myself at dinner because of you! You’re lucky I find you charming.”

Thomas relaxed his posture and smiled. The Duke’s light-hearted cheeriness was beginning to thaw him. Besides, the man was lovely to look at. The thrill of being pursued by someone who by rights should have little to no interest in him was making his heart pound wildly and desperately wanted to hiss the Duke, consequences and risks be damned.

“Charming, eh?” he countered, placing a hand on his hip. “Your Grace, I’m afraid I don’t have any idea what you are talking about. I only noticed that your glass was nearly empty so I offered to refill it.”

“By whispering very prettily in my ear?” The Duke quipped. He considered Thomas for a moment before adding, “You really are an impertinent little imp, Thomas but I’ve taken a shine to you.”

Heat pooled into Thomas’s cheeks and he quickly looked away, but his confidence remained intact. He observed the Duke through his dark lashes and dared to nibble on his plump lip, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards when the Duke’s pupils darkened. He had previously worked as a hall boy on another estate where an older footman had noted his potential good looks and shown him how to flirt with women. Thomas transferred those skills and was happy to discover that homosexuals fell for the same tricks.

“You can’t play the blushing maiden with me,” the Duke said huskily. “I believe I also asked you to call me Philip when we were alone, did I not?”

“Yes,” Thomas said with a nod before rumbling, “ _Philip._ ”

The Duke visibly swallowed and stared at Thomas as though the most captivating thing he had ever laid his eyes on. Thomas hoped that he was.

“Come here,” he said thickly. When the footman didn’t move, he repeated the instruction.

Thomas folded his arms over his chest and decided now was the best opportunity to offer _Philip_ a warning of his own.

“I won’t be ordered, _your Grace_ ,” he said stubbornly. Tilting his chin haughtily, he said, “Servants aren’t play things. I want you to know that. For all you may believe we are equal on some level, as you previously stated, frankly, I won’t be putting any bets on that. We’re from two different worlds, you and I.”

“Of course,” Philip sympathised. “The same goes for the likes of me, the upper classes. We aren’t all rude and uncaring towards the likes of you, treating you as though you are possessions. Nor are we all simpering romantics who fall head over heels for the chance to take up with our worldlier servants.” He suddenly laughed and added, “Well, at least _some_ of you are worldly. A few of my own servants wouldn’t know a horse’s head from its rear.”

“What do you want with me then?” Thomas asked arrogantly, suppressing a smile. He knew fine well how foolish some of the working and poorer classes were. One of the new hall boys, William, the son of a local farmer, sprung to mind.

“I told you, I’ve taken a shine to you,” Philip assured him earnestly. “I can see that you’re clever and you certainly don’t seem dull. There’s an air of defiance around you – rebelliousness. I like watching you. You stand so proudly against the walls, beautiful and still, like a marble statue in a gallery.”

“I’m not a statue or a doll of some kind, or toy, or anything else for that matter,” Thomas spoke over the man. He frowned and fixed the Duke with a firm stare. “You said you were bored. I do enjoy the company of men, you’ve been able to figure that out, but for all I find you handsome and I’m flattered by your interests, I play by my rules. I may be poor but I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were,” Philip soothed. “I am bored, yes, but only tonight. I wasn’t bored yesterday evening and I admired you then. You captivate me, that’s all.”

“Even if I captivate you, I’m still not going to fall into your arms like that,” Thomas insisted, clicking his fingers.

“Oh you certainly play by your rules, Thomas, but I do think that I could goad you into giving me a kiss, at least.” Philip smirked, his gaze settling on Thomas’s mouth again.

“Is that so?” Thomas said lazily, turning his attention to the patterned wallpaper. A small part of him was regretting being so stubborn. If he throws away the chance the bed a duke, he’ll kick himself.

“Absolutely,” Philip purred, taking another step forward.

The Duke was now centimetres away from Thomas, but the footman held his ground. He looked at the Philip’s infuriating smirk on his plush, soft lips. Glancing upwards, Thomas met his challenging gaze. He suddenly felt too hot around his collar and the temptation to lean forwards and press his lips to the Duke’s was overpowering, but he refused to be the first to succumb to lust.

“Curse my stubborn nature!” He thought bitterly.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day,” Philip whispered, close to panting. “You’re such a handsome boy, you drive me mad.”

“I’m not a boy,” Thomas muttered, irritated again by the Duke’s patronising. “I can’t be much younger then you. I may very well be older!”

“Yes, you may be,” Philip said dreamily, “but neither of us are grown-ups yet, are we? Let’s promise to never grow up! Let’s stay young forever. All I want is one little kiss, my love, just one. Won’t you kiss me?”

Thomas shook his head and looked down, staring at the floor.

“I’m not your love…” he trailed off. He was definitely going to lose out on his chance, he could sense it. Tension was rising in the air and it likely wouldn’t be long before the aristocrat became frustrated with him, a cheeky, cocksure servant who was forgetting his place.

“Thomas,” Philip breathed, inching forwards a little more so that their chests were pressed together. “Come now, I very well could grow to love you. I like you far too much already and this is the first time we’ve spoke. I noticed you at Sybil’s ball and you’ve haunted me ever since. None of the others could hold a candle to you.”

“Who, the other servants?” Thomas questioned, growing suspicious. He had been warned about certain types of upper classes; men and women who preferred to mess around with servants because they were easy picking, only to cast them off when they were through.

“Everyone else who had been in the room,” Philip replied sheepishly. “There was another man there, a chap I attended Eaton with who always caught my eye. I won’t divulge his name, we’re rather protective of our sort, you see. He’s perfectly lovely and we struck up a conversation but then I saw you and he just…just faded away, I suppose. I don’t usually care for servants. I’m always too worried that they might be tricky. I’m willing to take a risk, however, for you.”

Thomas couldn’t deny that the sweet words made his heart swell but he still wouldn’t be swayed. If the Duke wanted him so badly, he would have to prove it. Thomas wasn’t going to lie down and let a stranger walk all over him just because they happened to be handsome and rich.

“Kiss me then,” Thomas said defiantly. “If you want a kiss,” he looked Philip in the eye, “claim me.”

Their lips were millimetres apart and their breaths mingled together as they stared into one another’s eyes, daring the other man to make the first move. It all proved too much for Philip whose arms suddenly circled Thomas’s narrow waist, pulling the footman close. Thomas shivered, unable to help it. Philip smiled fondly as Thomas began to squirm. He tried to pull himself away but fingertips ghosted over his spine, causing another chill to run down his back, and Thomas almost melted from the touch. Philip hand disappeared into his silky black hair, holding him firmly in place as he tilted Thomas’s head forwards and brushed his lips over the footman’s chin. Thomas gave a soft, shuddering sigh and clung to Philip’s crisp shirt.

“I’m not letting you go,” the Duke whispered, sniggering when Thomas tried to free himself from his grip.

As he struggled, Thomas had to resist the urge to laugh. He couldn’t believe the man’s gall, though he should be used to aristocrat’s believing they could treat servants like toys. It aroused him, however, to find himself at another man’s mercy. Philip was strong, stronger than he, and it was both worrying and exhilarating. His pupils were darkening and his trousers were beginning to tent against Philip’s hip. The Duke was not faring any better. He was fully hard and looked as though he was ready to throw Thomas over the dining table to take him there and then. They began to jostle, pushing and pulling as Thomas tried to wriggle free again, but Philip smoothed his hands down Thomas’s flank before gripping onto the man’s hips and flinging him against the wall.

Thomas cried out as his back collided with the wall, but he began to cackle, laughing manically as Philip assaulted his neck. He giggled and giggled as he was kissed and nipped, and when Philip swore against his heated skin, he wondered if he had ever heard a sweeter sound.

“I’m still not kissing you. Admit defeat!” He declared, tilting his neck to give the Duke better access. When received a particularly hard nibble, he giggled softly.

“Oh really? You’re giving me very mixed signals, so I think I’m winning.” Philip panted against his neck.

“I’m not kissing you though.” Thomas taunted in a sing-song voice. He felt powerful, like he was the most desirable thing to ever exist on earth and it thrilled him.

Groaning, the Duke pulled away to look him in the eye.

“Oh yes,” he muttered, more to himself than to Thomas, “you are a defiant one.”

Thomas smiled smugly and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. It was an invitation for Philip to either kiss him now, or to continue ravishing his neck. Thomas loved it when men kissed his neck. The sensation of his jugular vein being bitten and kissed never failed to flutter his heart and make his knees weak.

 “Alright, I admit defeat.” Philip said quietly, smiling fondly.

Thomas cocked his right eyebrow mockingly and smirked before offering Philip a nod of encouragement.

“Go on then,” he coaxed, “I’m waiting. I made quite a bit of a thump when you pushed me against this wall, so we might not have much time. Carson could be prowling around the halls now, looking for any signs of an intruder.”

“Good point,” Philip agreed. “Perhaps we should go somewhere more private?”

“Is anywhere in this house private?” Thomas retorted boldly, smirking at the Duke.

Philip shrugged, then reluctantly pulled away from Thomas. The footman looked lovely; his hair was now ruffled and a few strands were falling into his grey-blue eyes. There were splotches of pink on his cheeks, his lips were swollen and cherry red, and he looked thoroughly debauched. Philip pictured how Thomas may look if he lay on his back, surrounded by plump fluffy pillows and satin sheets.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” Thomas teased, fluttering his eyelashes coquettishly.

“Why don’t you come up to my room?” the Duke suggested. His voice was hoarse and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Thomas’s lips. “Nobody has come looking for you yet so you might be able to stay for a while. An hour at least.”

Thomas felt his heart skip a beat at offer. It was true, nobody had come to look for him. Carson knew that Thomas was ‘checking’ the dining room, but he must have been in here at least ten minutes. It didn’t take more than five to give an already thoroughly tidied room the once over. The butler must have assumed that Thomas went straight to bed afterwards.

“He could check the garden though,” Thomas mumbled. He didn’t mean to speak out loud and quickly explained himself after noticing Philip’s confused expression.

“Garden?” Philip wondered before he snorted softly.

“Sorry, I was thinking that Carson might check the garden if he is looking for me. He will lock the back door soon, so he might check to make sure I’m not outside still.” Thomas explained. “I once got locked out at Downton. I had only just started working as a footman and Carson didn’t know I smoked then. I had started young, a footman at my last job taught me how. The only other person who smoked at Downton was Lady Grantham’s maid, Miss O’Brien, and she had come inside ages before me. I’m friendly with her now but at the time I was just a boy to her, so she didn’t bother with me very much. Carson assumed that all of the servants were in bed so he locked the door. I didn’t hear it lock so when I tried to get in, I was stuck. I had to keep knocking on the window by the door and thankfully our cook, Mrs Patmore, was heading off to bed and heard me tapping. She called for Carson and I received a thorough bollocking.”

Philip laughed heartily, tipping his head backwards. Thomas wasn’t certain whether his story was that funny but somehow it was hilarious to the Duke.

“My word, you servants have tales to tell,” Philip said jovially, shaking his head. “We rarely think about curfews and things. Well, the ladies do of course…but never mind them. Let’s not think of women tonight.” He gave Thomas a strange smile, then asked, “So, your butler may be looking for you?”

Thomas nodded slowly.

“Why don’t you quickly make an appearance downstairs, say I had come down to borrow a book for the evening,” Philip suggested. “Lord Grantham actually gave me and Lord Colthurst permission to borrow one his novels when he showed us his collection. He seems rather proud of his collection, doesn’t he? If your butler bothers you, say that you bumped into me and offered your assistance.”

Thomas was rather well read for a servant and Carson knew this. He had actually been rather impressed with Thomas’s knowledge. Philip’s tale was definitely believable should he be interrogated. It was probable that Carson still wouldn’t believe him and would assume Thomas was simply trying to avoid assisting Johnathan and the hall boys with last-minute tasks (partly why he escaped the servant’s quarters, although he really did simply want some peace), but at least his excuse wouldn’t be ridiculous.

A hot mouth suddenly trailed down his neck again; sharp teeth nipping and nibbling at his flesh. He sighed contently and widened his legs so Philip could slot his thigh between them. As the Duke circled his tongue around the shell of his ear, Thomas moaned softly and wrapped his arms around the Duke’s neck. The pressure in his groin was becoming unbearable and Philip was faring no better. He rutted against Philip’s solid thigh to relieve some of the pressure and grasped onto the collar of Philip’s silk robe. He was blissfully happy, content to receive such attentions. What he would give to experience this every day. Despite his heightened anxiety, the exhibitionist in him was thrilled knowing that they could be caught at any given moment. An unsuspecting servant could enter the room find Thomas locked in a passionate embrace with a _Duke_. Who else amongst the staff would be considered so desirable, so special to have such passion lavished onto them? He smiled to himself and slid his hands across Philip’s broad shoulders, down to his spine and the small of his back until he reached the man’s shapely buttocks. He gave Philip a delightfully firm squeeze and giggled when he heard Philip groan. Their mouth were suddenly crushing together as Philip hauled Thomas closer, deepening their kiss.

“You little minx,” Philip panted before drawing away to nip at Thomas’s neck.

“ _Philip_ ,” Thomas sighed, closing his eyes contently.

Whilst the men were distracted, drunk on their lust, a floorboard squeaked above them. The high-pitched whine echoed around the room and Thomas’s eyes flew open. He jerked violently, accidentally smacking his head against the wall behind him.

“ _Ahhh_!” He hissed, reaching behind himself to rub his sore head. “Bugger!”

“Oh! Are you alright?” Philip whispered, frowning in genuine concern as he pulled Thomas closer, cradling him in his arms.

Thomas nodded but pushed the him away. It was too risky for them to remain unaccompanied in the dining room at such a late hour, especially since Philip was meant to be in bed. If someone was wandering around the house, they could barge into the room at any moment and find Thomas locked in a scandalous embrace with a high-profile guest. As a Duke, Philip was one of the most titled men in the country and was of great importance. Thomas had to protect Philip’s reputation as much as his own. He scanned the room frantically, checking to make sure that they were safe. His heart hammered in his chest, beating so wildly he thought it might burst out of his chest.

“It’s alright,” Philip said calmly, reaching out a hand to brush away a stray hair from Thomas’s eye. “Old houses tend to squeak and groan, remember. I doubt anyone upstairs is awake. We were all very tired after supper.”

“Carson could be making his rounds,” Thomas murmured, staring at the door again.

His heart rate was beginning to slow down but he was still spooked. Philip leaned forward and surprised him by planting a quick, gentle peck on the tip of his nose. Thomas gasped, much to Philip’s delight and he blushed, quickly averted his eyes to the floor. He had been crowded against walls by men before but none of them had treat him as sweetly as the Duke.

“Don’t shy away from me now,” Philip said soothingly. “You’re –“

“I’m alright,” Thomas interrupted, smiling to reassure Philip.

“You are right, however. It will only be a matter of time before we’re caught in here. We better leave. Hurry downstairs, Thomas,” Philip urged, indicating his head towards the door. “If you see anyone, tell them you are tired, that you are going to bed. Once you have the all clear, come and find in me in my bedroom. Do you know which room I’m staying in?”

Thomas nodded. “Yes, you are on the bachelor’s corridor, the third room on the left. I overheard Johnathan talking about you.”

Philip cocked his head quizzically and asked, “is he the other footman? The one who is currently valeting for me?”

Thomas nodded, curious to know what Philip thought of his colleague.

“I’m not too keen on him,” Philip said lazily. His waved a hand airily and went on, “I thought he lacked enthusiasm. I understand that you will all be rushed off your feet, you poor things, but most of you put on a brave face. You have always come across pleasant enough.”

“Really?” Thomas asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He had been reprimanded numerous times by Carson for his attitude and bored expressions.

“Oh yes,” Philip nodded before slyly whispering, “but perhaps I’m bias?”

Thomas grinned and felt his heart flutter. Like a silly schoolgirl, he was close to swooning.

“We do need to leave. Please do visit me tonight. I’ve longed for this moment since I first saw you,” Philip said softly. “We will need to be very quiet.

Thomas added, “Discreet as well.”

Philip nodded and took a step back to give Thomas room to leave. They hurried to the door, which Philip opened carefully. He glanced around the dark hallways, squinting into the shadows to see whether anyone was passing by whilst Thomas quickly blew out the candles on the dining table. He had forgotten that he had lit them with his cigarette lighter earlier. Philip couldn’t hear any footsteps or see any movement. He nodded at Thomas then offered him a shy smile at Thomas before opening the door wider. He stepped into the hallway and adjusted the ties of his robe.

“Thank you,” he announced as widened his eyes at Thomas, silently imploring the footman to play along. “I appreciate you helping me, despite the late hour.”

Thomas dipped his chin respectfully and bid Philip goodnight. To end to their brief pantomime, Thomas offered to escort the Duke back to his bedroom, but Philip wisely refused.

“No thank you, I’ll manage,” he politely declined, turning away from Thomas.

As he walked away, Thomas wasted no time hurrying the servant’s door. He pulled it open and cautiously descended the stairs, careful not to take too much noise as on his way downstairs. When he reached the bottom, he crept passed the kitchens and peered inside. Only the cook and a sole kitchen maid were bustling about as they cleared away the leftover pots and bowls from dinner. They were talking quietly to one another, too distracted to notice Thomas scuttle past. He wanted to know whether anyone else was awake so he edged towards the servant’s hall. When he reached the door frame, he overheard Johnathan and Miss O’Brien voices. He peeked around the door and was relieved to see that they were sitting at the table and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. O’Brien was sewing a button onto an ivory blouse, presumably one of Lady’s Grantham’s, whilst Johnathon read the newspaper. With any luck, he would be able to sneak back to his room unnoticed. He took a step backwards and made to turn around but his shoe collided with the edge of the skirting board and made a loud smacking noise. Thomas winched and froze on the spot.

“Damn!” He thought, frustrated by his blunder. There was no way one of them didn’t hear him stumble.

Behind him, O’Brien had looked up and spotted his shadow in the doorway. As he tried to slip away, she called out to him.

“Thomas, is that you?” She asked loudly. “I can see you dithering. What are you doing?”

He had to close his eyes for a moment and pray for patience. Once he had recovered, he turned on his heel and stepped into the room, schooling his expression into something that he hoped appeared nonchalant. He staring blankly at O’Brien and leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest.

“Evening,” he greeted the maid. “I was just on my way to bed.”

“I thought you went to bed ages ago,” Johnathan drawled, turning over a page of his newspaper without so much as glancing in Thomas’s direction.

“Mr Carson was looking for you,” O’Brien warned, frowning at him. “We told him you had gone up.”

“Last I heard, he had sauntered off to check the dining room,” Mr Watson chimed in. “He’s been gone a quite a long time. No doubt he sneaked out for a cigarette. Typical.”

Thomas hadn’t spotted the older man sitting by the fire. Lord Grantham’s valet was usually one of the first servants in bed but tonight it seemed he had decided to stay up later. He was too was reading a newspaper and a discarded cup of half-drunk tea lay in a saucer at his feet.

“Even though we had already cleared it,” Johnathan said moodily, turning over yet another page. He didn’t seem to even be reading the paper, only glancing at the headlines.

“Well there’s nothing wrong with being through,” O’Brien chided, shooting a cold look at Johnathan. “Our Thomas is a hard worker. You’ve sat here on your backside for most of the night.”

Johnathan glared at the her and carelessly chucked his paper onto the table. O’Brien had a point, Johnathan was just as bad as Thomas when it came to idleness, but as he was first footman and wasn’t able to shirk off as many duties.

“Hmpf,” Mr Watson huffed. “Back in my day, you wouldn’t catch anyone slacking. We were on or feet from dawn till dusk, with very few breaks in between.”

“Ahh, so nothing’s changed then,” snapped Johnathan. He looked exhausted and was rapidly losing his patience.

“You’ll watch your tone with me, young man,” Mr Watson scolded. “I’m his Lordship’s valet and your superior, so you’ll do well to remember.”

Before Johnathan could retort, Thomas interjected, “I think we should all go to bed. We’re all tired.”

O’Brien nodded and looked around at the men but neither Johnathan nor Watson stood up. She beat them to it and rose from her seat, carefully folding the blouse she was mending over her arm.

“Well?” She addressed the room. “Are you all going to stay here all night?”

Mr Watson looked annoyed but didn’t object, pulling himself out of his chair. His movements were a lot slower now that he was getting older and his knees were beginning to weaken. It took him a few moments before he was steady on his feet. He passed O’Brien and Thomas and gave them a curt nod before leaving the room, ignoring Johnathan.

“Good night,” Thomas called after him. He usually didn’t have much to say to the old valet; tonight he just wanted to get into Watson’s good books to wind up Johnathan.

As the old man shuffled away, Thomas heard him mutter, “at least one of them has some manners.”

 “Miserable git,” spat Johnathan. He stood from his chair and pushed it under the table, scraping its legs across the floor. If Carson had been present, he would have berated him for creating a racket.

Thomas tipped his chin haughtily as the older footman stalked across the room. As Johnathan barged past, the two footmen caught one another’s eye; one was smug, the other irritated.

“Blimey, someone is in a fettle tonight,” Thomas muttered as Johnathan stomped down the corridor.

O’Brien snorted. “Those two have been snipping at one another all day.”

She chuckled to herself whilst Thomas dug his hands into his pockets, searching for his cigarettes. Pulling one out, he offered the fag to O’Brien who refused. He shrugged and stuck the cigarette between his teeth before pulling out his lighter.

Turning her head to look at him, O’Brien asked, “So what were you really up to?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Thomas answered back, avoiding her question. “I thought you said you were turning in early.”

“I was going to,” she said, “then you did off. One of the maids said she’d seen you slip into the dining room. When she walked by later on, apparently the Duke of Crowborough followed you in. Funny that.”

Thomas took a slow drag from his cigarette and focused his attention on the small window on the opposite side of the room. The woman was implying something and Thomas feared he knew exactly what she was alluding to. His hands became clammy and he could feel that his anxiety was setting in. If O’Brien suspected something had occurred between him and the Duke, he could end up in trouble. They may be on good terms with one another but the maid was a sly busybody, observant and calculating. He could feel her smirking at him now as she watched his face intently, no doubt searching his expression for clues.

“Yes, the Duke did enter the dining room,” he told her matter-of-factly. “He couldn’t sleep and had seen me go into the room on his way to the library. Lord Grantham had generously offered to lend him and another guest some books for the evening, so the Duke was going to take up the offer. He didn’t want to wake Lord Grantham, obviously and since he’d spotted me, he came in and asked me to accompany him and offer him a recommendation.”

O’Brien listened to his words carefully but didn’t appear convinced. It took a liar to know one and Thomas could feel perspiration forming on his skin. O’Brien tutted and threw him a condescending look.

“Oh please, a Duke asking a footman for a book recommendation!” She scoffed.

Thomas glared and snapped, “I’m well read, I’ll have you know!”

“Don’t take on with me,” she cautioned him. “I’m the one who is looking out for you.” Leaning closer, she quietly added, “You can’t pull wool over my eyes. The other day, I caught him watching you as you strutted about the house.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispered coldly. He sounded more confident than he felt. Since his arrival at Downton, he had tried valiantly to hide his preferences. He’d flirted with a few of the maids, as well as a few of the local girls. He’d even stepped out with a couple, but Mrs Hughes found out and gave him a dressing down, forbidding it. She had claimed Thomas was too young and far too busy to be thinking about such nonsense. When he was older, then he could think about courting properly. In all honesty, it had been a relief.

“I couldn’t care less either way,” whispered O’Brien. “All I I’m trying to say is that if this Duke has taken an interest, use it to your advantage. Did you know that Johnathan is looking for another job? He’s sick of working in the countryside and wants a permanent job in London or another city.”

Thomas perked up, standing a little straighter. If this was true, that would mean the position of first footman would be vacant and he would be one step closer to becoming a valet. He took another drag from his cigarette and watched the maid out of the corner of his eye.

O’Brien went on, “You need to get that Duke to put in a good word for you. Ask him to mention your name to Lord Grantham. Tell him to say that one particular servant had been a huge help and that he was grateful for your services. He’ll pass the praise on to Carson and you’ll be in his good books.”

“I would do that if the Duke was after me, but he isn’t –“ Thomas began.

O’Brien scoffed again. “Rubbish! You don’t have to hide anything from me, Thomas. I’ve met men like you before. I don’t have an issue with your sort.”

“My sort?” Thomas grumbled through gritted teeth.

The maid tutted and shook her head as though she thought he was being silly. Thomas glanced nervously in her direction and saw that she didn’t look disgusted or offended, only frustrated. This made him question whether his initial assumptions had been correct; perhaps she was trustworthy after all. Sarah O’Brien was the most ruthless woman he had ever known. She smoked cigarettes, she drank hard liquor when it was offered to her and her bite could be as dangerous as her bark. In many respects, she was very much his equal. If there was one person Thomas needed on side, it was her. To know that someone else would defend him should things turn sour with the Duke would be comforting. She was robust and worldly, and Thomas didn’t doubt that that she had met other men like him before. For the first time in his life, he was at a crossroad. Did he dare trust O’Brien with his greatest secret, or did he walk away now and cut all ties of allegiance. He had made a promise to himself many years ago that he would keep his preferences hidden. His father had been suspicious of his nature for years and treated Thomas with contempt, never bothering to bond with his youngest son. At thirteen, his father’s concerns were proven correct. Thomas had been found kissing his father’s apprentice, Antony Gordon, at the back of the family clock shop by his uncle. His father had immediately closed the shop and dragged him home, not caring that most of the villagers saw. As soon as the front door of their home had been shut, Thomas had been beaten him within an inch of his life whilst his weak, sickly mother screamed and begged his father to stop. After the ordeal was over, he was hauled to the church, bloody and broken, to pray with the Pastor and his weeping mother. His father had duly fired the apprentice and Thomas was told that Antony’s own father committed suicide and that his death was the result of Thomas and Antony’s sin. Two days later, Thomas had been thrown out of his family home and told never to return. He hadn’t heard from any of them since, except for one letter that found its way to him. It had been from his sister to inform him that their mother had died of a broken heart. Although Margaret had not written these exact words, Thomas assumed he had blamed for her death also. In order to cope with his past, he had built protective walls around himself over time and carved a cold, cunning mask to hide his insecurities. It was fun to deceive others and to feel tall and powerful, but it wasn’t always easy to solely rely on oneself for everything. If O’Brien saw something in him, a spark of potential and was willing to overlook his sexuality, she could become a friend. The thought of it moved Thomas, but his swallowed the lump in his throat and took a steadying breath.

“He asked me to go to his room,” he confessed, his voice so low it was barely audible. He had to swallow again and was surprised when a comforting hand patted his shoulder.

“Then go,” O’Brien encouraged him. She smiled sweetly and gently coaxed, “Just be careful. The likes of him can be tricky and remember; he’ll probably just use you for the night and toss you out within the hour.”

Thomas nodded and replied, “Yes, I _know_.” He was surprised by how hoarse he sounded. He cleared his throat then whispered, “I know what I’m doing.”

O’Brien sighed and for the briefest of moments, she looked rather sad. She gave Thomas a pitiful smiled and admitted, “I feel for the likes of you.”

Her comment both stung and stunned Thomas. He didn’t know what to say and frankly, he didn’t want her to elaborate. To his embarrassment, he felt hot tears forming in his eyes. He blinked them away, unsure as to why he suddenly wanted to weep and shifted awkwardly on his feet, leaning more of his weight onto his left side.

“I’ll be off then,” he mumbled before turning to talk away. A hand suddenly gripped his elbow.

“Thomas!” O’Brien hissed, her tone more urgent. “I meant what I said. Be _careful_. Don’t go expecting a fairy-tale to come from this.”

“You know I don’t believe in all that,” he said flatly. “I have to go.”

“Don’t you?” she whispered, fixing him with a firm stare. She looked genuinely concerned. “I mean it. Use him for your own gain. Nothing else will come of this. You don’t want to tangle yourself in any funny business unless you want to end up with the police knocking at the door. If this Duke decided to cause trouble, you’ll be the one in bother. Carson won’t stand for it. He chucked a maid out years ago for falling pregnant to a local farmer. Imagine how he would react knowing that one of us frolicked with a _Duke_ \- a male servant to boot! You won’t be getting a reference, I’ll tell you that. If the police aren’t called for, you’ll be on the first train out of Grantham and then what will you do? Without a reference, you’ll struggle to get even manual labour. Do you want to end up selling your backside on a street corner?”

Thomas was now shaking slightly and his throat felt as though it was closing in on itself.

“Once you’ve seen your little toff, get yourself upstairs and straight into bed – don’t stay longer than an hour,” O’Brien hissed. “You’re lucky you aren’t sharing with Johnathan this time. You need to watch out for yourself because nobody else will.”

It was probably the best piece of advice anyone had ever given him. Thomas gave her a stiff smile and repeated, “I have to go.”

She returned his tight-lipped smile but made no further comment. Loosened her grip, she released Thomas and allowed him pull away. He immediately began to walked forwards, but he threw a reassuring glance over his shoulder and mouthed, “I’ll be fine.” O’Brien didn’t look convinced. Before he could be delayed, Thomas dashed around the corner and scampered up the winding staircase. Whilst he scurried, his thoughts drifted to the elegant, doe-eyed Duke and he wondered if Philip was growing impatient. Toffs were fickle creatures and many were unfamiliar with the concept of _waiting_. Philip didn’t seem unkind and he surely wouldn’t scold Thomas for taking so long. He happened to be the most down to earth gentleman Thomas had ever met.

His conscience whispered, “ _let’s hope he hasn’t fallen asleep_.”

He soon reached the first floor and had to pause and lean against the wall to catch his breath. He was relatively fit young man, he just wasn’t used to sprinting. After a few seconds, he tentatively opened the door a few inches and poked his head out. Staring around, he found upstairs corridor empty, devoid of servants, Crawley’s and guests. All of the bedroom doors were shut and with the exception of a ticking of a clock and distant snoring, all was quiet. He heaved a small sigh of relief and carefully slithered out, closing the door silently behind him before tip-toeing to the Duke’s bedroom. There was no noise coming from inside the room and no light seeped through the cracks of the doorframe. Not wanting to risk disturbing any of the Crawley’s, Thomas reached for the door handle and slipped inside without knocking.

He found the Duke in bed. He had lit a single candle and was sitting upright, propped up by numerous fluffy pillows with a pen in one hand and a red journal in the other. Upon noticing Thomas, he beamed and sat up a little straighter.

“I was starting to wonder whether you were going to come. I was getting worried,” he admitted, placing his pen and journal on the side table next to his bed.

“Sorry,” Thomas apologised as he turned to lock the door.

“Good man,” Philip praised, his voice low and soft. “I was just about to remind you to lock it.”

“Can’t have someone waltzing in,” Thomas said with a titter, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

Philip patted the space next to him, beckoning Thomas to join him on the bed.

“Come,” Philip said, patting the bed again. “Take off your shoes and sit next to me.”

Thomas sucked in a breath and stared longingly at the pillows and silk duvet. The guest beds were always arranged beautifully by the maids with their luxurious duck-down duvets and soft cotton sheets. Thomas had harboured a secret wish to lie on one of them just to see if they were as comfortable and lavish as they looked. Now that his chance had come, he wasn’t certain whether he should. A fine bed with such beautiful fabrics was too grand for the likes of him.

“I don’t know if I should,” he said hesitantly, eyeing the bed wearily.

Philp’s shoulders sagged a little. He grew thoughtful, his brow furrowing as he considered something. Thomas was about to speak when he threw back his duvet and climbed out of the bed.

“Oh, don’t get out of bed!” Thomas begged, feeling guilty for making a Duke think that he needed to stand up for him.

“Why not?” Philip asked cheerfully as he made his way over to Thomas.

Thomas flushed and muttered, “Your kind shouldn’t get out of bed for the likes of me.”

“Nonsense!” Philip scoffed, flapping a hand impatiently. “Come here and kiss me, silly boy.”

Thomas bit his tongue and swallowed the catty remark that threatened to spill from his lips. Philip’s habit of referring to him as ‘boy’ was irksome, but the man likely meant no offense and it was a fact that Thomas was young and still a boy in many respects. Instead, he stepped forward and allowed Philip to embrace him. A sweet little peck landed on his nose again, and he giggled at the familiarity. He liked this, being held and kissed by a beautiful man. He wished he could spend the rest of his days like this, wrapped in a strong pair of arms. He carded a hand through Philip’s thick hair and admired how soft the strands were as they slid between his fingers.

Philip leaned into his touch and whispered, “You’re divine,” whilst flitting his eyes over Thomas’s handsome features, drinking in his high cheekbones, porcelain skin and pert, tempting mouth. He blurted out, “Someone should paint your portrait and hang you in a gallery.”

“I don’t know about that,” Thomas mumbled, blushing at the compliment.

Philip snorted and nuzzled his cheek, peppering him with butterfly kisses as hands slid down his spine. Thomas shuddered when Philip smoothed over the small of his back and cupped his bottom.

Philip squeezed the two firm globes and buried his face into Thomas’s hair. For a lad so slim, the footman had a lovely plump rear. A stirring in his loins resulted in Philip feeling an impulsive desire to be mischievous. Grinning wickedly, he pinched the cheeks beneath his fingers and laughed when Thomas gasped, though he clearly didn’t mind as his darkened eyes were hungrily devouring Philip. Before he could do anything else, Thomas tilted forwards and took Philip’s bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling the sensitive skin. Philip groaned encouragingly and Thomas dragged his wet tongue over Philip’s mouth, smiling to himself when he felt them part. He gave no warning before plunging, kissing the Duke deeply. It was his chance to take charge, to show Philip that although he was a servant, this didn’t mean he was going to lie down quietly and allow a gentleman to take him six ways from Sunday simply because of their class differences. He wanted to prove that he knew what he was doing, that for all Philip had been encouraged to make the first move in the dining room, Thomas was going to command the bed. The battle for dominance commenced, their tongues fighting for control as they desperately clung to one another’s clothes. With a skilful flick of his tongue, Thomas won and Philip relented, surrendering to the footman. This was the first kiss between them that Thomas fully controlled and he revelled in his gain of power, cupping his fingers around Philip's jaw.

“Little imp,” Philip grumbled, pinching Thomas’s bottom again.

Thomas snickered and latched onto Philip’s lip again, nipping him. It was partly playful, partly a threat. He had sharp teeth and he knew how to use them; the Duke had been warned.

“What, did you expect me to be good?” he asked playfully, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I knew you would be trouble,” Philip smirked. “It’s why I’ve been so drawn to you. Don’t be one of those dull, wispy little things that whine and keen like puppies.”

Thomas shook his head. “Never.”

Philip pressed a kiss onto his forehead and brushed away the stray hairs that fell into Thomas’s eyes.

“That’s my good boy,” he whispered, caressing Thomas’s face.

This time, Thomas didn’t find his use of boy as insulting. He smiled sweetly as Philip lowered his hands and bent his knees, surprising Thomas by scooping him into his arms. He was lifted clumsily and Thomas feared he would be dropped but Philip was strong and agile, and able to quickly find his balance before turning his body with ease. Thomas was heavier than he looked but was still light enough to carry. Reaching the bed, Philip deposited the footman onto the rumpled duvet.

“Git,” Thomas hissed, though his words held no malice.

Philip’s broad hands clasped his hips, holding him steady as Thomas reached up to untie the Duke’s robe. Thomas was mesmerised by the patterned silk that slid from Philip’s shoulders to pool around his elbows but Philip was distracted by the buttons on Thomas’s clothing to notice his entrancement.

“Too many damn fiddly buttons,” Philip murmured. He tutted when the final button of Thomas’s shirt refused to come undone.

“Let me,” Thomas offered, pushing his hands away to unfasten it himself.

Thomas undressed himself whilst Philip watched as layer after layer peeled away, falling to the floor unceremoniously. The Duke’s erect cock twitched between his legs when Thomas slid his undergarments down, revealing his own hard prick. As Philip raked his eyes over Thomas’s figure, Thomas became self-conscious. He had lain with other men in the past but they had never scrutinized him, mostly because they hadn’t been afforded enough time. He shifted from foot to foot and waited for Philip to finish inspecting his body. He was usually rather vain when it came to his appearance as he knew he was pleasing enough on the eye. Many had told him he was handsome and he always managed to turn a few heads when he strutted about the village. He was still a footman, however and felt he couldn’t compare to a pampered Duke. Philip was clearly a keen sportsman, for his was ever so slightly broader in the shoulders, with muscular arms and powerful slim thigs. His beautiful hair was trimmed to perfection and his rich diet provided his skin with a healthier glow. Thomas felt boyish in comparison with his scrawnier legs and a concave stomach. He had less hair on his chest and arms as well which bothered him.

Philip didn’t share his sentiments, instead he found the footman captivating. He reached out an arm to glide his fingers down Thomas’s flank.

“You beautiful thing,” he whispered. “Come here.”

Thomas swallowed and took a tentative step forward, allowing Philip to pull him onto his lap. He straddled the man’s thighs and ran his hands over the Duke’s strong shoulders, aroused by the heated skin and twitching muscles beneath his fingers. He pressed their chests together and wrapped his arms around Philip’s neck to pull him into a slow, languid kiss. This time, there was no need to battle one another for control. Their kiss was tender and sweet, so unlike the rough, hurried encounters Thomas had experienced with others. His cock nudged against Philip’s and his breath caught in his throat as a wave of arousal washed over him.

Philip smoothed his hands over the small of his back and whispered, “Let me turn you over, darling,” before carefully rolling their bodies, laying Thomas on his back.

“Mmm,” Thomas mumbled, nodding before he replied, “I’ve always wanted to lie on of these beds. They’re much better than the creaky frames we sleep on. Everything feels soft.”

“That’ll never do,” tutted Philip. “You should sleep in a bed like this every night. You’re too beautiful for anything less.”

“Flatterer,” Thomas laughed.

Philip kissed his lips gently and whispered, “With all that lovely white skin of yours, I bet you’re like the Princess and the pea. You would feel every lump in a mattress, even a speck of dust. You’re wake to find a thousand bruises covering your body. Oh, that would be a lovely contrast.”

He sighed against Thomas’s stomach, trailing his lips over the footman’s soft skin before biting down on a protruding hip bone. Thomas groaned and writhed underneath him.

“I want to be the only one to mark you,” he growled, his words slightly slurred. He was drunk on lust.

“Yes, only you.” Thomas said weakly.

Philip grinned and pressed another kiss onto his skin.

“Take me apart,” Thomas ordered. “Piece by piece.”

“Oh, my darling,” whispered Philip, “That is exactly what I intend to do.”

Pulling Thomas’s leg up to his waist, he aligned their hips and slowly ground their bodies together. The friction was heavenly and Philip released a guttural moan whilst Thomas twisted his fingers in the sheets. All Thomas could hear in his head were the words “darling, darling” over and over, repeating and repeating like a mantra. It had been too long since he had felt this alive; desperate and needy beneath another man’s hands. He intended to bask in the moment for as long as he could so he may relive the memory again and again once the London season ended. A thin sheen of sweat was forming across his body and his knuckles were turning white from his tight grip on the sheets. Philip threw his head back and continued to grind their hips together, thrusting into the dip of Thomas’s thigh.

“What do you like?” he panted, staring at Thomas again. “Tell me what you want me to do, Thomas, you beautiful boy!”

“Whatever,” Thomas replied with a shrug, his voice barely a whisper. He was too focused on the hand that had wrapped itself around his cock.

“Oh no,” Philip urged, giving Thomas’s leaking member a squeeze. “You promised not be dull. Don’t let me down now, my little dove.”

“Meh,” Thomas huffed, opening his eyes again.

Philip gazed at him loving before swooping down to kiss him. As their tongues danced, he ran his thumb over the tip of Thomas’s cock and felt the footman’s body fall limp in his arms, overwhelmed by the simulation.

“Oh Philip,” Thomas moaned, “Keep doing that – but I want more!”

“Good,” Philip soothed him. “What else?”

“You’d better bugger me,” Thomas panted. “Now or soon – just be quick. I want you.”

“Say please,” Philip teased, playfully tapping the tip of the footman’s nose.

Thomas chuckled before pouting, “What, no kiss?”

Amused, the Duke obliged and leant forwards to plant a peck on his nose, smiling as he pulled away. He would happily lay kisses on his adorable nose all day. Thomas was impatient, however, and demanded more attention. He was painfully erect and he could barely keep his hips still, wriggling and fidgeting under Philip’s hands. The Duke was in a poor state himself but Thomas was glaring at him, silently goading Philip with his eyes.

“Give me one moment,” he whispered, kissing Thomas’s mouth.

He climbed off the bed and quickly rummaged through his luggage until he found the small jar of petroleum jelly.  He hadn’t planned on bedding a footman but his mother had always told him to prepare for everything. Thomas was watching him from the bed, propped up on his elbows. Philip held up the jar for Thomas to see as he dripped two fingers inside, coating them generously before closing the jar and dropping it on the floor.

“Oh goody,” Thomas chirped, his eyes shining with excitement.

“You know what this is, then,” Philip smirked, walking across the room to join Thomas on the bed.

“Course I do,” Thomas bristled. “I’m not ignorant – or a child.”

Philip kissed him and whispered, “I never said you were.”

Sedated, Thomas sighed and lay on his back, parting his legs invitingly so that Philip could slot himself between them. A cool, slick finger skirted around his anus, testing and probing before pushing gently past his tight ring of muscle. He moaned delightfully when a second finger brushed against his skin. Above him, Philip grinned wolfishly as he inserted the second finger into Thomas, who cried out and bucked his hips forward. Once Thomas settled, he carefully began to thrust into him, scissoring and stretching the tight muscles with his fingers.

“More,” Thomas demanded, arching his spine and moaning wantonly as a finger brushed against his sensitive prostate.

Under normal circumstances, a man would already be fucking Thomas by now but he appreciated how gentle Philip was, how considerate. He had to stuff a fist into this mouth to drown out a wail when the Duke latched his teeth into the tender flesh inside his left thigh. He was bitten hard, almost painfully and Thomas laughed gaily, thrilled by the spontaneity. The assault sent shockwaves through his veins, electricity crackling through him as Philip suckled a purple bruise onto his skin.

“Are – are you marking me?” Thomas stammered, barely able to speak.

“Where it matters,” Philip whispered into his skin before he bit Thomas’s hipbone. He could feel Thomas’s anus slackening and Philip added a third finger for good measure.

“Just get on with it,” Thomas snapped. “I’m not waiting all night.”

“If you don’t want it to hurt, you’ll wait,” Philip scolded as he swatted Thomas’s thigh for his cheek.

“I’ve managed before!” Thomas insisted stubbornly. He tutted and sat upright, glaring at the Duke.

Philip was momentarily taken aback. The remark made him feel rather sad, guilty even. Sex should be equally pleasurable for both parties. Thomas was rather naïve and may have unknowingly suffered under the hands of other men, but would loathe to be told this.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he told him calmly, stilling the fingers that were nestled inside the footman.

He couldn’t see it from his position, but Thomas smiled. The footman felt warm and happy and full of love. This was the trap he had wanted to fall into since the moment he had kissed Antony Gordon. It was silly and reckless and utterly foolish, but Thomas knew he was already falling for the handsome Duke. O’Brien had warned him to be sensible but he was sure Philip felt the same, with his kind glances and feather light touches. He choked out a moan when Philip began to stroke his cock, kneading and teasing his shaft before leaning across Thomas to kiss him soundly, whispering sweet nothings against his lips. Thomas was sure no other man could be so tender and loving. He would make it his life’s mission to remain at Philip’s side as his faithful valet. Liberty from his Duke would be an infinite prison.

“Are you ready?” Philip whispered, searching Thomas’s eyes for any hint of discomfort or uncertainty.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Get in me. _Now_ please.”

“As you wish,” smirked Philip.

Thomas grinned and teased, “Good boy.”

The Duke laughed and slowly removed his fingers and pressed his cock against Thomas’s centre. He glanced at the Thomas and received an assuring nod. Carefully, he eased himself into the footman, sighing as he sunk into a hot, velvety channel. Thomas began to pant as Philip continued to push inside him. His arms were sprawled next to his head, his fingers twitching whilst his body adjusted to the stretch of Philip’s cock inching into him. Philip laced their fingers together and the two men stared into one another’s eyes, their breaths ghosting over their skin as Philip began to slowly roll his hips.

“That’s it,” Thomas moaned, throwing his head to the side as Philip’s cock pressed against his prostate. “Oh fuck, you found it. There!”

“I know, my darling,” Philip whispered. A bead of sweat slid down his neck. “Just remember- just remember to be quiet.”

Thomas nodded and whimpered as he received a hard thrust. His mouth fell open in a voiceless gasp as Philip rocked into him, panting hotly into his ear.

“Good?” Philip asks teasingly when Thomas huffed out a deep breath, moaning softly as Philip tightened his hold on his hips.

Thomas snorted around the breathy sighs that streamed from his lips and quipped, “Do you even need to ask?”

Philip changed the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly and Thomas felt sparks dance across his spine. He gave Thomas’s cock a long, hard stroke and grinned, his chest heaving as he rhythmically rolled his hips.

“Look at me,” he whispered huskily, stroking Thomas again.

Thomas arched his back when Philip brushed his thumb over his wet, sensitive tip.

“You are playing dirty, Philip,” he chided, smiling lazily at the Duke.

“I love seeing you like this,” Philip whispered, leaning down to kiss him.

Thomas wrapped his legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. His tangled his fingers into Philip’s damp hair as the Duke increased his pace, snapping his hips against Thomas’s body as he drove into him powerfully.

“God, I might faint,” Thomas whispered, his eyes falling shut. Heat was flowing into his groin and he knew he wouldn’t last must longer. Philip was close as well; Thomas could feel his prick throbbing inside of him.

Philip began to slam into him, rocking the bed into the wall. Thomas writhed uncontrollably when he received another long, firm stroke, bucking his hips wildly. Philip smirked and trailed his lips across his overheated skin, mouthing at his neck.

“Philip,” Thomas moaned before he was silenced with a kiss.

Both men were dripping in sweat, their bodies sticking together as they clung to one another. Thomas was on the verge of passing out and Philip was mumbling nonsensically above him, watching him with unfocused eyes and a gaping mouth. It was too much, far too much and Thomas wondered if he would die from the overstimulation once their lovemaking subsided.

“Beautiful boy,” Philip panted, throwing back his head as he pounded into Thomas. “God, you’re so tight, darling. Like taking the arse of an angel – _so perfect_.”

“Don’t stop!” Thomas begged, clawing at the Duke’s neck.

Philip whimpered with each thrust, driving himself closer and closer to the edge. The rhythmic sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, echoing around the walls. He reached down to tease Thomas’s leaking cock, stroking him fast and without finesse whilst Thomas rocked into his thrusts, moaning wantonly.

“I’m almost there, darling,” Philip whispered. His eyes were squeezed shut and his cheeks were red.

Thomas nodded and pulled the man closer, nuzzling into his shoulder. His cock was given a firm squeeze and hips to bucked wildly again, moving of their own accord. Philip took the hint, stroking him harder whilst increasing his own pace. It did the trick and Thomas immediately began to shake under his hands. Thomas could feel his need to release building, tipping him over the edge as his mind turned blank. With one final stroke he came, spilling over Philip’s hand and cried out. Everything faded to black.

“Gosh!” Philip hissed, his voice nothing but white noise to Thomas.

Thomas was quivering, losing all control of his body. He couldn’t see or hear anything. All he could do was ride the tides of ecstasy that washed over his body.  His were cheeks hot, his legs were stretched wide and arsehole was burning as Philip drove into him, fucking him with one last brutal thrust before he spilled into Thomas. Philip clamped his teeth into the footman’s shoulder to stifle his moans whilst Thomas’s arse pulsated around his softening cock. Exhausted, his arms collapsed and he fell into Thomas’s chest.

“Fuck,” he whispered, burying his face into Thomas’s warm neck.

Thomas puffed out a laugh and held him close, pressing a kiss onto the side of his face.

“Well done,” he praised, kissing Philip’s hair.

They lay together, silent and still, wrapped in each other’s arms until Philip became too uncomfortable. He removed his softened cock from Thomas’s raw arse, kissing him tenderly. His seed seeped out of Thomas and slid down his bollocks and the insides of his slender thighs. In a filthy move, Philip traced a finger through his released, scooping a generous amount onto his finger. Thomas shivered and let out a weak groan in anticipation, pressing his face into the duvet. With a sly grin, Philip roughly thrust his coated finger into Thomas.

“Absolutely filthy,” Philip whispered darkly as he pumped his finger into Thomas, aroused by the feeling of his own release seeping over his fingers, coating the inner walls of Thomas’s arse. “Can you feel me inside of you?”

“Yes,” Thomas smirked. “I don’t doubt I’ll still feel you tomorrow. Breakfast will be interesting.”

Philip added a second finger and quickly threw his other hand over Thomas’s mouth, covering the howl he emitted. The footman wriggled and nudged Philip with his knee, a silent plea to show mercy and stop his teasing. The Duke just grinned and added a third finger and Thomas cried out, fisting his hands in the sheets as Philip stroked his abused anus.

“Oh god,” he panted. “Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

“Maybe,” Philip smirked. “Nobody else would be able to touch you that way, I suppose.”

“Keep doing that,” Thomas begged, smiling madly as he stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t get this often enough.”

“Poor love,” Philip cooed, planting a sweet kiss onto his sweaty forehead. “Does your butler not take you over his knee when you’re naughty?”

“No!” Thomas hissed, scandalised by the thought. He shuddered as his mind conjured bizarre, sicking images of Carson dipping a thick finger into his cleft, gliding its calloused tip over his sensitive skin before circling his hole. It shouldn’t have been arousing but Thomas’s cock jerked.

“Would you like that?” Philip whispered into his ear. “Would you like old, weathered relic to spank your soft little bottom when you’re naughty?”

“God no!” Thomas cried but he couldn’t resist smiling.

“Or perhaps you’d prefer that other footman to take you? He’s a repulsive, moody thing but he looks like a young man who can hold his own.” Philip whispered, his eyes shining with mischief. “He looks like he do with a leg up.”

“Ugh!” Thomas scoffed. The thought of Johnathon touching him was as vile as his visions of Carson.

Philip giggled and kissed him, sucking Thomas’s tongue into his mouth. He rubbed the footmen thigs, smoothing his hands over the soft skin. When Thomas pulled away, Philip nosed his cheek and pressed a kiss onto his brow.

“Perhaps Lord Grantham would like you to provide an under-the-table service?” he wondered, nuzzling into Thomas’s hair. “I’m sure there’s a bit of life in the old dog yet.”

“Philip!” Thomas scolded, shaking his head at the ridiculous notion.

“Don’t you believe me?” Philip teased. “You don’t know what public school boys get up to in their dormitories. We’ve all taken a pretty boy up the arse at least once.” He gave the footman a lewd wink before collapsing into childish giggles.

Thomas let out a low whistle and smirked, “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Philip rolled onto his back to lie by Thomas’s side. He was still chuckling, his eyes watering as he reminisced about his school days. Sex had been ridiculously accessible in boarding school.

“I should get back to my room,” Thomas whispered. He looked at the Duke and realised he was lost in a daydream. By the look of his smile, the memories he was reliving were fond ones. He gave the man’s stomach a light tap.

Philip turned his head and beamed at Thomas.

“Sorry,” he apologised. “Believe me when I say that my school days had been filled with fun.”

“I envy you,” Thomas said quietly. His school days had been awful.

Philip tutted sympathetically and shuffled closer, wrapping an arm across his waist. He pressed a gentle kiss onto his shoulder as he rubbed soothing circles onto Thomas’s stomach.

“That’s a shame,” he mumbled.

“Hmm,” Thomas hummed, too exhausted to form a proper answer. If he had the energy, he would have reminded Philip that he had attended a poor village school where he had barely learned a thing. The teachers had been incompetent, cold and far too willing to cane their students for minor indiscretions.

He looked at Philip again and found that the Duke was watching him intently, smiling as his eyes roamed over Thomas’s face.

“You really are lovely,” the Duke said warmly. “I want to keep you.”

Thomas’s heart began to gallop in his chest. Surely it could be a possibility, if Philip employed him.

“Do you need a valet?” He asked cheekily as he sidled up to Philip.

The Duke grinned and whispered into his ear, “I could definitely make sure you tend to my needs for the rest of the season. I’ll make sure I follow the Crawley’s so we can stay together. My own man is currently unwell and I’m sure Lord Grantham can lend you to me.”

“I’m sure he could,” Thomas smirked. “Now kiss me again.”

“I’d like to, very much,” Philip said fondly as he brushed a stray hair away from Thomas’s eyes. “It will have to be a quick kiss, my love.”

“It’s late,” Thomas whispered, stifling a yawn. “One last kiss though?”

“One last kiss,” Philip agreed, swiping his thumb over Thomas’s lower lip. “May I?”

Thomas grinned and said, “You may,” before he closed the gap between them and rested his hand against the Duke’s waist.

Philip had an extraordinary way of kissing like it wasn’t just something he wanted, but something he craved. As he tongue slid into Thomas’s mouth, his tenderness and patience spoke volumes, showing Thomas that passion and intimacy wasn’t something that the man simply lived for, but it was something he needed to survive. He felt as though he was drowning in Philip’s embrace, never to resurface again. He believed he could feel the love that radiated from the Duke and he knew that their hearts were now one. No man had ever treated Thomas like this. Philip was a shining knight among crowds of pigeons and dragons.

Perhaps they could travel, for the rich enjoyed their holidays. He had always wanted to see Italy and France – America as well. Maybe they could take a long voyage to Japan. Thomas also wished to see India as he heard stories about their vibrant clothing and strange spices.

Philip could also take him to other areas of England. He had yet to see the Northumberland he had been told that the countryside there was breathtakingly beautiful.

As his mind danced from one fantasy to the next, Philip released himself from Thomas’s embrace and gave his cheek a gentle caress. He placed his hands on either side of Thomas’s face and pulled him forwards to kiss the tip of his small nose.

“There, we’re satisfied now, aren’t we?” He said happily, pinching Thomas’s cheeks. “You really do need to leave now. I’ve kept you here too long!”

Thomas’s heart sunk but he knew this was true. Dawn was fast approaching and it would be too risky to remain in Philip’s room for any longer. The rest of the servant’s would be waking up soon and some of the guests could even be ready to awaken.

“Pass me my trousers,” Thomas said lazily, pointing at the heap of clothing on the floor.

Philip raised an eyebrow and regarded Thomas with amusement. It became clear that Thomas wasn’t going to move so Philip sighed and gave into his demands, bending down to pick up the assortment of the footman’s uniform. He helped Thomas dress himself, kissing his mouth every few minutes until the footman was fully clothed. It saddened Philip to see him dressed; he much preferred him nude.

“Good night, Philip,” Thomas whispered before kissing the Duke’s cheek.

Philip quietly muttered, “I’ll see you in the morning, my darling.”

“It already is morning,” Thomas said pointedly, grinning at his own wit as he turned on his heel to leave. When he reached the door, he cast one final glance over his shoulder and whispered, “Good morning.”

Philip grinned and mouthed, “good morning,” in return.

Thomas snorted then turned to the door, opening it slowly. When a gap opened that was large enough for him to fit through, Thomas slipped into the corridor and shut the heavy door behind him. He quickly glanced around the hallway and scolded himself for forgetting to check whether it was empty. Johnathan was right, sometimes he was a clod.

 

* * *

 

 

Hurrying back to his room, Thomas thought of his future and the possibilities that lay ahead. He hadn’t felt so optimistic since he was a child and he had overheard his mother whispering to his sister that she was going to try and find a way for them to escape their father. Thomas had been five years old and he remembered feeling excited, thinking that an adventure was in store. His mother never left. She stayed with their father. She cried a lot and cradled Thomas against her chest until her husband hit her, scolding her for babying Thomas too much. He blamed her for making Thomas soft.

The memory pained him so Thomas pushed the sad thoughts away and cast his mind to Philip. He would become the valet of a Duke. He would be his lover and they could travel together. He would finally leave Downton and escape Carson.

As he reached the servant’s staircase, he paused as he reached the small window to the right of the doorframe. The sun was beginning to rise over London and the birds were awakening, chirping and tweeting joyously in the trees and chimneys. A few men were already scurrying up the cobbled streets, hurrying to work. Thomas couldn’t see any dark clouds looming above the buildings and the draft that seeped through the window panes felt warm.

“Well look at that,” he whispered. “It’s a beautiful day.”

**Author's Note:**

> You decided, my dear reader. Does Philip love Thomas, or is our sweet boy deluding himself?
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment and a kudos, they are greatly appreciated.


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